


Brush Strokes

by ren (renegadewriter)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-27
Updated: 2012-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-06 03:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renegadewriter/pseuds/ren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small scene between the two lovers after the war ends. Pure fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brush Strokes

"What about this one?" Sunstreaker looked up from where his head was resting on Prowl's lap, intently studying the painting he was being shown. 

It was a miniature; fitting perfectly into the black and white's servo. The painting was simple, by the yellow mech's standards at least. Splashes of warm colors covered its surface, he had painted that as practice. Earth paint was so much different than the ones he used back on Cybertron; their texture, density, and how it took to different brushes had made him revert back to 'practicing'. He didn't really mind, no matter how much he grumbled and cursed, he had liked relearning his skills with the new materials; it had brought back fond memories of his past, reminding him that there hadn’t always been war and death; and had loved it even more when Prowl had asked him to teach him how to paint. 

They were in their quarters, Prowl sitting comfortably on the end of the, if Sunstreaker gave his honest opinion (which he did), too soft cushioned couch, his doorwing resting lazily on the pillows he kept specially for them, legs propped up on a small stool with the younger mech's art folder leaning on the side. Sunstreaker laid the length of the couch, pedes on the armrest, head on his lover's lap. They were going over the yellow artist’s work, looking for a simple piece Prowl could recreate as an assignment. 

Sunstreaker mentally snorted at that. Giving Prowl orders on how to do something had been fun, even more so when the doorwinger took everything he said so seriously. 

"No. Throw that one out." He said offlining his optics again. He was enjoying this new peace, where he didn't have to train all day long, or be on alert (not that he wasn't but...); just lazing about with his lover, being _together_. It had made him extremely happy to learn Prowl's love for art, and his desire to learn how to paint, to be able and share his passion with the mech he loved. 

Prowl frowned, looking down at the small piece. 

"Are you sure?" He asked. 

"Yeah, that was just a practice piece, isn't worth anything."

The black and white looked like he had been kicked, slowly running his finger over the painting, feeling the different textures. Sunstreaker must have been practicing his strokes with different paints, as there were strokes that felt completely smooth, while others were a bit raised, their width also varied. The colors inspired calm and peace, reminding Prowl of the leaves of autumn. Yes, it was simple, but that wasn't the point. 

"I like it." He defended the small piece.

The yellow warrior onlined his optics, staring up at his lover's set expression and sighed. "Why?" 

"You painted it. Practice or not, I can't just throw something you poured your spark into away." Prowl answered, voice low yet full of determination. 

Sunstreaker took a moment to process his lover's words, a small smile forming on his faceplates making his optics seem that much younger and innocent, even with all the horrors of war they had experienced. He felt giddy, his love for the Praxian growing. Not being able to deny his lover anything, he just made himself more comfortable on his lap.

"Mmm, keep it then. If I poured my spark into that small piece, it's only natural you guard it." He said, surprising Prowl with the warmth those words radiated. 

He smiled, bringing the miniature to his chest plates, a servo rubbing over his lover's helm lovingly. 

"I will."  


End file.
